Review by Kirkus Book Review
Like Andrew Holleran's Dancer from the Dance (p. 708), this first novel careens through the underground world of cruising N.Y. homosexuals: the Baths, Fire Island, disco, Crisco, poppers, orgies, and kinkiness unlimited. But while Holleran used a lightly ironic, slightly effeminate and romantic tone to stand back from this carnal carnival, Kramer has chosen to wallow in it--with a whiny, bombastic, cartoon-y style (part Philip Roth, part Hubert Selby, part group therapy) that reminds one of a teenager who's just been given permission to say every dirty word he knows. At the center of all this heavy breathing is 39-year-old Fred Lemish, ""your average, standard, New York faggot obsessive kvetch""--unlucky in love, obsessed with hideous Mom and Pop, ready to try anything, to ""go forth and forward, to investigate all and forge the undiscovered smithy of my sex!"" While Fred goes forth--to be urinated on, etc.--Kramer furnishes dovetailing vignettes of other gays about town: a beautiful innocent who signs up with the ""One Touch of Penis Modeling Agency,"" the gorgeous ""Winston Man"" of advertising fame, executive Randy Dildough, and others, all of whom entwine explicitly at ""The Fucketeria,"" ""The Toilet Bowl,"" and similar hot spots. Not to mention Boo Boo Bronstein, who's planning to fake his own kidnapping and extort big bucks from his tycoon father (a spin-off from the real-life Bronfman case). These characters--plus Boo Boo's Jewish mom, who explores her lesbian potential--are farcically brought together in a Fire Island orgy finale, after which Fred, understandably exhausted, has some sort of unwarranted epiphany. ""I'm not a faggot. I'm a Homosexual Man,"" says Fred, taking an unconvincing stab at self-psychoanalysis and looking forward to some unspecified new lifestyle. Dancer from the Dance is funnier, shorter, less tiresome, less pretentious, less drenched in self-loathing. Faggots is longer, louder, dirtier, much more Jewish--and will be far more heavily promoted. Copyright ©Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
